Oraca

Katherine Ravencry is the changeling child of a sixteenth century king and a beautiful queen of a powerful immortal race. Despite the powerful blood that runs through her veins, Katherine is not important. Until her father is murdered and the civil war breaks out. Katherine discovers that she does, in fact, have a purpose in life that is more than being betrothed to a powerful nobleman. She must fulfill her destiny. Else everyone that she loves will be in danger.

3. Oraca Must Be Free Of Magic

I could hear the raucous cries from the bystanders but I did not behold the knowledge to why the entire court and the majority of the towns-people had gathered here. I stood at the window, still in my nightgown, initially annoyed that no-one had woken me – for I had planned to ride my horse all morning – but curiosity soon inundated me.

I had the perfect view of the courtyard from my bedchamber window, and I could see the condemned man being attached to the stake. My father, seated on his throne, appeared as though he was a sculpture. I could not see his face so well from where I was, but his posture was rigid and strong. Behind him stood my brother, Caspian, also composed.

Then my father, the King of Oraca, arose and the crowd silenced almost immediately.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all. Staying pursuant to the laws of Oraca, I, Henry Ravencry, have decreed that those guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic are to be penalised,” my father slowly scanned the bystanders before settling his eyes on the condemned man. “With death.”

A bystander yelled something in agreement and then the crowd became rowdy once more. My father raised his arms to quieten the assemblage. Once the noise had gradually disappeared, the king resumed his speech.

“I pride myself as a fair and just king but sorcery is a capital crime and I cannot possibly grant clemency. I cannot afford my kingdom to be mired with chaos. Oraca must be free of magic.”

My father motioned for the four black-hooded men to bring forth their flaming torches. The rolling of drums. The men, although wearing black hoods, appeared grave as they ambled towards the trembling man who was bound to the stake. When they reached the mound of wood, the four masked men separated so that they could stand at each corner.

“Magic is not tolerated in Oraca and we must not welcome a deceitful sorcerer into our kingdom,” my father said and he motioned for the men to bore down on the wood with their torches.

Instead of gasping at witnessing a man being burned alive, the onlookers screamed with delight as if they were at a festival. Although disgusted by their twisted reaction, I was also thankful. I was relieved that I did not have to hear a man scream as the merciless flames seared his flesh. I was glad that I did not know when he finally died.

I averted my eyes to the sky, which was glowing with sunlight of the early morning. It was not yet noon. The man did not make it half a day. He would never make it. I was due to join my father in the Great hall for a late breakfast, but I found that I no longer had an appetite. Caspian was not to accompany us for he was to commence with training for it had been postponed so that everyone could attend this 'exciting' morning event.

I brought my knees to my chest and rested my head against the glass in the window. My feet were bare and, despite it being summer, cold. I held my hands before me, palms up. I coaxed the flames to come. At first, they were small and playful, like the burning wick of a candle but then they roared with anger. The flames fought against each other as they pulled in several directions. It was as if a fairly strong wind was toying with the fire. Like a cat with a mouse. Then I made them dim, returning to the comforting candle light flicker.